Into the Game

Jiang Shen clicked with precision, his top-ranked cultivator in God's Game weaving through attacks before striking with a devastating sword slash.

God's Game wasn't just an MMORPG—it was a living world. Kingdoms clashed, sects schemed, and dungeons shifted unpredictably. Even bosses weren't just obstacles; they had histories, grudges, and choices.

Jiang was one of its best, ranked fourth worldwide. But tonight, he didn't feel like it.

"Are you f**king kidding me?!" he snapped into his mic. "How do you guys keep missing your skills?!"

"Sorry, man, I—"

"Shut the f**k up!"

His frustration grew as enemy cultivators closed in, their techniques precise and deadly. Within moments, his team was wiped out.

[Defeat]

The red text flashed across the screen. Jiang slammed his hand on his desk. His rank hadn't dropped much, but the loss stung. Worse, he had wasted time on teammates who clearly weren't taking the match seriously.

He yanked off his headset with a sigh and shut down the game. Leaning back, he stared at the ceiling. Maybe he'd been too harsh. But he pushed the thought aside.

"I'll call them tomorrow," he muttered.

Wanting to end the night on a better note, he queued up for solo matches. For two hours, he crushed opponent after opponent, reaffirming his position. Feeling satisfied, he stretched, yawned, and shut down his computer.

His last thought before sleep took him was simple: Tomorrow, I'll push for third rank.

But destiny had other plans.

A warm light pressed against his eyelids early in the morning—something that shouldn't have been possible. His windows were always shut. He lived alone. If he didn't open them… then who did?

Something's wrong.

His eyes snapped open.

Morning sunlight streamed through a wooden lattice window, casting soft patterns on the floor. The air smelled fresh, carrying the scent of morning dew. A thick blanket covered him, far heavier than the one he usually slept with.

His pulse quickened. This wasn't his room.

He sat up and froze. His body felt… off. Stronger, yet lighter. He looked down at his hands—slender, refined, unfamiliar.

Panic surged. The room was too large—elegant furniture, polished floors, a folding partition painted with a rising dragon. A sword hung on the wall, its blade gleaming.

"What the hell?"

His voice was different—deeper, more refined. He turned to a bronze mirror mounted on a wooden stand and rushed toward it.

A stranger stared back.

Long black hair, sharp features, and faintly glowing crimson eyes. His black martial robe, adorned with red embroidery, fit his lean yet muscular frame. He looked like a character straight out of a cultivation novel.

Then, a translucent screen flickered into view.

[ Name: #unregistered# ]

[ Title: (?) Villain ]

[ Other Information Restricted ]

His chest tightened. A jolt of shock and denial shot through his veins.

He had played God's Game long enough to know what this meant.

He wasn't just in the game. He had taken over the body of a villain.

His breath hitched as he flexed his fingers, feeling unfamiliar strength coiling beneath his skin. His gaze snapped to the sword on the wall. Without hesitation, he grabbed it—the weight both foreign and familiar in his grip.

Holding his breath, he pressed the edge against his fingertip and dragged it across the skin.

A sharp sting—then a thin line of blood welled up.

The pain hit a second later, sharper than expected. His grip faltered, and the sword slipped from his hands, clattering to the floor. 

F**k, it's real. It's f**king real.

It was too sharp—for someone who had only ever held a dull kitchen knife.

Swallowing hard, he turned back to the mirror, staring into the crimson eyes that weren't his own. His stomach twisted, but he took a slow breath.

Jiang Shen, calm down. Panicking wouldn't change anything. Think. Think positively.

Jiang's old life had been anything but fulfilling. 

An orphan with no family to rely on, he had studied through a charity foundation, but higher education had been out of reach. 

Without a degree, stable jobs were scarce, forcing him into manual labor just to survive. 

The work broke his body. After a doctor warned him to stop, he found himself at a dead end.

Then, an old friend suggested he return to gaming. He had always been skilled, spending hours in Internet cafés, where players rented computers by the hour. Back then, he never had the money to play, but his friends, knowing his talent, covered the costs in exchange for easy wins.

With no other options left, Jiang took a gamble. Borrowing money from those same friends, he built a gaming PC and threw himself into the virtual world, turning gaming into his livelihood. It paid the bills, but it never filled the emptiness. Even at twenty-six, with a steady income and a place of his own, loneliness clung to him like a shadow.

But that was my old life.

A life with no future, no purpose—just a game to keep me going.

But what about my friends? The other players? Did they transmigrate too? Or… am I the only one?

Then—

[Assimilation Rate: 20%]

Pain lanced through his skull. Jiang gasped, knees hitting the floor. Clutching his temples, he trembled as cold sweat dripped down his face.

Then, the memories came.

An overwhelming torrent of foreign experiences crashed into him. A grand mansion, a powerful Clan, a Sect filled with martial geniuses—his mind reeled, drowning in a past that wasn't his own.

Jiang Shen.

That was the name of the body he now controlled. Same as his own.

The Second Son of the Jiang Main Family.

A senior disciple of the Divine Dragon Sect, one of the four major sects on the Wushen Continent. The Jiang Clan, one of the six great clans—a powerful force within the continent.

Then, realization struck.

The Jiang Clan had fallen. Labeled as villains in God's Game, its members were hunted by NPCs as remnants of evil. To players, they were nothing more than killable mobs—disposable enemies for quests and loot.

Yet… his memories showed something different.

The Jiang Clan is powerful, respected. Its members are highly regarded.

This doesn't make sense… If they were truly villains, then why do they still stand untouchable? How do they command such influence?

Then it hit him.

This timeline… this is before the game starts. 

In God's Game, the world descended into chaos with an apocalypse. The Nether Cracks—fractures in reality—tore open across the land, unleashing demons into the mortal realm. Endless hordes of abyssal creatures poured in, bringing destruction and despair.

But right now, everything was still intact. 

Peaceful.

That meant… the cracks hadn't appeared yet.

Knock. Knock.

A sudden knock shattered the silence, cutting through his thoughts before he could process further.

Jiang's mind raced—who could it be? What should he do?

Instead of overthinking, he adjusted his robe, glanced at the mirror, and smoothed his hair. 

Maybe it was lingering panic or the rush of fragmented memories settling in, but he felt unexpectedly composed. More than that—he was curious.

This was a rare chance to see the world before the apocalypse. The people he had only seen as 3D models in a game—what did they look like in reality?

Was this the start of a quest? An event? His gamer instincts kicked in.

Taking a deep breath, he schooled his expression into something neutral and walked to the door.

Then, he opened it.